Rise of the Dovah
by Ephemeral Winter
Summary: An aspiring mage finds herself caught in a prophecy and civil conflict upon arriving in Skyrim. Adalette reluctantly takes up arms against the dragons in the hopes of discovering herself along the way. Contains spoilers from the game.
1. Destiny

**Chapter One: Destiny**

_Middas, 9:01 PM, 19__th__ of Last Seed, 4E 201_

If she closed her eyes, she could almost see her dream. A pile of books stacked neatly beside her, a riveting text sprawled before her. She would wear an opulent dress, her raven hair undulant and soft, and be content with a life free of conflicts. She would be the envy of the Arch Mage and the ecstasy of knowledge. She chased her vision into Skyrim's borders, umber eyes seeing nothing but the demure promise of a better morrow.

As suddenly, the dream burned alive.

Her name was Adalette Caelius. She refused her surname and was a talented student of magic and song in Cyrodiil. Up until recent events, her life had been the simplistic rhythm expected of any non-traditional student. She was studied, intelligent, and wise for her age. A bit of a coward, but she was working on that. In a fit of uncharacteristic bravery, she chased her goals. That was real, was it not? She brought her hands up, raw from wielding weapons too heavy for her grasp.

In two day's time, she had been taken prisoner by the Imperial Legion, nearly executed, and almost burned alive by that massive black _dragon_. She just about laughed-what a ludicrous notion. She could not be sure she was not just going crazy, but her host was ardent to keep her plainly aware that she was not. She had fled one dragon only to find herself defending an entire city against another. It was a mysterious fire in her gut, somehow blinding her to her faintheartedness. Stranger yet, she had _won_. Then something else blocked her freedom.

Adalette was the Dragonborn.

Gods, it still made her head hurt. Luckily, the heroics made way to accommodations and a title she never knew existed. Adalette Caelius was Thane of Whiterun, whatever that meant. At minimum, it invited an ounce of respect from the proud Nords. She huddled in the safe walls of the Bannered Mare, staring, praying the days were an illusion. She smiled politely to Hulda, her gracious innkeeper. She had been checking on the girl while the housecarl, Lydia, was away. Adalette would have to try her best not to impose.

For the first time in her life, she felt the dread of imminent death. It made her choke. The hours blended together and she drifted like a wraith and curled in soreness. She stood from the hot bath, her feet just as battered as her palms. She supported herself against the wall, flinching because she forgot to keep her hands clenched. Donning her clothes was difficult, but not more so than wobbling to her room on the sides of her feet. Hulda noticed from across the room and came to help her walk. Adalette thanked her and apologized for the burden, which her host dismissed.

It was no use. She would have to stay there another day. She carefully crawled into the plush bed and brushed through her black hair. Adalette inherited it from her father, a farmhand who was emotionally absent, but full of pride in his unique way. It had been singed in her battle with Mirmulnir near Whiterun, leaving her no choice but to chop most of it away. She took a dagger she had scavenged in Bleak Falls Barrow and looked away before cutting it just past her shoulders.

Adalette chewed on her nails; the journey promised to her would be harrowing. According to Jarl Balgruuf, she would need to make her way to Ivarstead and then climb the 7,000 steps to their monastery. Lydia returned before midnight with a map of Skyrim and a meal, being uncomfortably accommodating. "I thank you; you have been an incredible help to me," Adalette spoke, making a point to show Lydia that she would _not_ be treated like a slave. The brunette only nodded. Adalette suspected she missed Whiterun already.

"And here are those books you requested, my Thane," she continued, unabated. "One on the Greybeards, the local fauna and flora…" Lydia dug through her pack, handing them to Adalette. The girl's arms sagged under the weight and she fought a hiss. Books were relatively cheap in Skyrim; she had even been able to purchase a few spell books. The cold swept over the hills from the mountains and it grew quite cold, even under the three blankets she obtained. At least she had new reading material.

Adalette set them aside for later and turned to her housecarl, "Lydia, do you think we should recruit another person? I know we're both capable, and you're much stronger than I am right now, but I fear the journey. I only just arrived in Skyrim and the truth is, I'm not a seasoned warrior."

Lydia blinked, looking taken aback, "If you think it's best. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"No, but we should be on the lookout." Adalette chewed on the skin on her bottom lip. _This life, this responsibility, is far from ideal_, she thought_._ Hells, she had no idea what that _Dragonborn _business even entailed. Tiber Septim was the last name tied to the legend. She took the axe she earned from Whiterun, feeling the rush of magic in its hilt. "Just ahead, there are Guardian Stones," she started, her mouth trembling. There was no reason for her to be telling Lydia anything. "I passed them with Hagvar when I fled from Helgen, but I could not choose. I'm an apprentice mage as it is, but maybe I should pray to the Warrior Stone?"

Her voice faltered at the last word. Lydia looked at her in a way that perhaps exposed the fear Adalette felt in her heart. The Nord offered a small smile and nod, "That would be wise."

_Turdas, 7:18 AM, 20__th__ of Last Seed, 4E 201_

The next morning was less strenuous on her body. Adalette felt that she might be able to make the journey soon. She marked her map with stops she would need to take along the way, the next one being Riverwood. Lydia graciously went to chop wood for money early in the morning while Adalette recovered, making the Dragonborn feel particularly useless. Being raised the way she was, she wanted to carry her weight and avoid being a hindrance. As she read through her book of basic alchemy, the noise grew quite heated below her.

"_Enough!_" yelled Hulda. "If you cannot abide by the rules, you must leave. I will not suffer any lout." Feeling gratitude for Hulda's generosity, Adalette forced herself to head downstairs. She would not allow _anyone_ to infringe on that wonderful woman.

Two men, both tall and rugged as the typical Nords, stared one another down. One was blond and brawny with a wide build, his hand ready on his iron sword. The other was a black-haired male with striking blue eyes, who looked just as strong as the other. It was clear that the blond was the aggressor. Adalette pushed her way through the small gathering and readied her shout if necessary, saying in a voice quite opposite her demeanor, "Leave now or I will force the both of you through those doors."

Both men turned, one looking more amused than the other. The shorter blond chuckled darkly, pushing the other male back in a jovial manner, "Little lady, you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Neither do you," she replied darkly, making him laugh harder. She tempered the rage in her throat, "You and me, outside _now_."

The Nords and their sexism; Olfina Gray-Mane had mentioned her struggles her first night at the inn. It seemed there was no shortage of obstaclesin her adventures ahead. Adalette fumed and marched through the doors. She hoped her fear would not show through her masquerade of bravery. He mocked her with an effeminate gait as they stepped outside. Adalette stifled the pain in her feet, attempting to seem far more formidable than her small frame suggested. Lydia stopped chopping wood as she noticed her Thane step outside. "Milady?" she asked as Adalette shook her head.

Adalette braced herself. Whatever little strength and power she had, she would use it on the idiot. He did not even take a stance, tossing his sword aside as if to say he did not need it. Nord customs were strange to her, but even she understood that it was a low blow to her recognized strength. She inhaled deeply, summoning the power she inherited only a day ago. "_FUS!_"

Dust and other debris shot into his eyes and he toppled back unceremoniously against the gale. His hands shot up and he struggled to his feet, running opposite the Dragonborn. The male ego was pathetically fragile. Lydia giggled behind her, pleased and looking more relaxed as Adalette smiled to her. "Here, Lydia, why don't you rest now? I'm feeling oddly energized." With a friendly and more human smile, Lydia handed the axe to her.

"Well, well," came a sultry voice from the inn. Adalette had not realized it, but a small crowd of people gathered outside to witness. Hulda intercepted a guard who was heading toward her, explaining what had happened. The other man approached, taller than she realized and in a mix of steel and leather armor. He leaned against the inn, looking amused, "So _you're_ the Dragonborn."

"That's right," she replied, trying not to sound as cynical as she felt. She swung the axe, taking advantage of the little adrenaline she had. The man eyed her, not leaving.

"I never imagined I would run into you, or that you even existed. Thank you for taking care of the braggart; that was quite impressive for a taunt." He smirked, "Also hard on the throat, I imagine." Adalette chose not to encourage him with another response as he continued to study her. "You're an Imperial." _Genius_, she thought sarcastically, continuing her chore. Not to be discouraged, he persisted, "And short. And… soft. You do not have a warrior's build."

"That's because I'm a _mage_," Adalette huffed, chopping down in a stronger swing. "Is there a point to this? Who are you?"

"My name is Adiel. I think I could be of service to you."

Adalette paused, lip curling as she set her axe down. Her arms ached and she subdued a wince as she eyed the young stranger. "Why?" Adiel looked like trouble, as much as she hated to judge. His hands were worn and while his build was typical of Nords, it indicated less hardship than the others in the area. More vanity, if she had to guess. She inhaled, trying to catch her breath as he spoke.

"I have an interest in the rare and valuable," he said evenly, eyebrow cocked in what was surely his go-to charisma. Adalette rolled her eyes and continued chopping. "Hey!" he barked. She wondered if he was upset that his flirtation had not worked. "I'll have you know that I am an expert in my talents; you cannot be so casual about dismissing me."

"Can't I?" she asked in mock-sincerity, cocking her head to the side. "Listen, Adiel, I'm not a thirteen year old girl anymore. The bad boy routine bores me and I have no use for unreliable people. I have a burden to the world now and I cannot suffer your blaring complexes. So unless you are interested in offering _me_ anything, you can save face and walk away now." She must have hit a nerve as his jaw hung open. As Adalette suspected, he walked away in a huff. Male ego. She continued chopping wood into the evening, her hands blistered and hurting worse than ever.

Adalette was no stranger to hard work and labor, but the last few days had rocked the foundation of her life and what she thought she knew about herself. At the end of it, she could barely flex her fingers. Lydia helped her bandage her hands, chiding her for not stopping, "You have no obligation to work this hard, milady."

"But I do, Lydia," she argued. She fought back a strange surge of overwhelming sadness. How pathetic of her to gush, and to a _stranger_ yet. Lydia, to her embarrassment, had noticed. It was too late to pretend she was not feeling anything. "I'm sorry. It must seem so silly to you that _I_ of all people am the Dragonborn." Adalette sighed, "Up until two days ago, I was just a bright-eyed, naïve child hoping to become a full-fledged mage at the College of Winterhold. I didn't _ask _for this."

Lydia studied her face for a moment, finding her Thane's youth in the matured mien. She gently patted her hand and smiled, "Take it one step at a time," she suggested. "Skyrim was not built in a day, and no great person is ever born such." Adalette burst into tears, somehow dismantled by Lydia's words. Lydia remained calm, "How old are you, my Thane?"

"I'm only twenty years old." Lydia looked concerned, remembering the hardships she endured at her age. The housecarl found a strange sense of familiarity and reached to her head, asking wordlessly if the contact was permitted. Adalette rested on her shoulder and she stroked her Thane's ink-black hair, noticing that it was shorter than it was before. Lydia sighed, patting her back.

"It sounds like you've had an eventful few days. You have a strong sense of righteousness," Lydia began, remembering Adalette's graciousness and willingness to fight the ruffian earlier. "You are also generous and feel obligated to be better for others. These are all great qualities to start with. Don't stress about the hardships before they have begun. And besides, I _am_ sworn to carry your burdens."

Adalette laughed, sufficiently uplifted. "Can we make a deal, though? You can carry mine, but only if I can carry yours as well." Lydia looked perplexed again. "Lydia, I am a simple girl from Cyrodiil. I'm pretty low-maintenance."

_Fredas, 5:15 AM, 21__st__ of Last Seed, 4E 201_

The mage braced herself the following morning. She would be walking to Riverwood and would need to be prepared in case of any attacks and the long walk. She fiddled with her dagger, which pressed uncomfortably on the still open injuries beneath the bandages. Lydia carried the items and ordered a meal before they set off. It relieved her to have such an agreeable woman as a housecarl. Thus far, they were getting along.

"May I?" came Adiel's voice. Adalette looked up to him, hand supporting her head as she deflated under the sudden annoyance. He sat without being invited and looked intently at her. "I have a salve for your injuries and I had these boots fitted for you." He settled into the chair, satisfied with Adalette's bewildered look. "I admit, my intentions might be far from pure. I intend to deepen my pockets and enjoy the finer things in life along the way. But I also am willing to help you train and ready yourself for the hardships ahead. I genuinely feel that my calling is to join you in your travels."

"And I am genuinely unconvinced. Your propositions have been unconvincing as of yet, not to mention your approach is far from desirable." She had very little experience with men and people in general. Adalette was a passive observer for a majority of would-be interactions, though her finesse in tact and word indicated nothing of the sort. Adiel was a suspicious fellow and proud. While she sensed no danger, she had to wonder why he was pursuing this journey. "You said you would train me? May I ask in what?"

"The clandestine arts, for a start. I know you're skeptical, but there is practicality in them, particularly if you're going in old Nordic ruins. I am also a master in archery and lighter weapons. I know you could use some skill in that area, from your lack of build."

Lydia's gaze set on her Thane and she was perplexed by her plain disinterest. From what the Nord woman could discern, the mage was a cautious woman with strange thresholds for acceptability, but a good sense of priorities. She hoped naivety was not one of her traits. Adalette looked at the items he offered and asked, "Then I have two questions for you. What do you hope to gain from being around me?"

"Gain?" he asked, caught off-guard. "I suppose to see what the world has to offer. These are dangerous times, after all. The civil conflict makes traveling alone dangerous, even for the most skilled warrior."

"Civil conflict?" Adalette perked, glancing to Lydia. In the blur of the last few days, she remembered hearing people discuss the ongoing hostilities. The displeasing mage in Dragonsreach was also muttering about it. "Final question; if I deny you, are these gifts still mine?"

Adiel looked frustrated, "If you deny me? I went through the trouble of obtaining these things for you and you still think to deny me?" Adalette remained quiet against his building resentment. He bit back what seemed to be a temper and relaxed himself. He gathered his thoughts and began, "Yes, they are yours, but I fail to understand why you would -"

"I accept your proposition," she interrupted. Adiel paused and quirked his brow, irritated and yet curious about the sudden shift. The Dragonborn chose to be honest about her intentions in honor of their newfound comradery, "I simply wanted to know how you would handle it. And to my surprise, you handled it less badly than I thought." A thought occurred to her, "You didn't _steal_ these, did you?" He chuckled, denying it as Lydia looked uncomfortable. "The moment your habits bring us trouble, you're gone," she warned. With that, they finished their meal and headed through the gates.

Skyrim hosted a sprawling mountainous terrain. It was beautiful, though lacked the polished appeal of Cyrodiil. The land was decorated in rugged and largely untainted beauty which she had neglected to admire before. The mountains pierced into the heavens, as brave and unyielding as the Nords themselves. It was difficult to appreciate things in times of high stress. Adalette promised to herself that she would take the time to enjoy it, even if her circumstances made her want to break down.

The walk was quiet, if awkward. Lydia was all-business-no-play and Adiel was more interested in ignoring the two than making conversation. The river brought a chill that did not seem to bother her companions in the least. She occupied herself by gathering ingredients she recognized from her text.

There was a crunch near the trees and a harrowed, grunted huff. Adiel drew his bow in an instant, pivoting in the noises' direction. A black horse emerged from the shadows in a slow trot and Adalette's eyes brightened. "Oh, who did they leave behind?" she cooed, her voice suddenly soothing like honey. Adalette carefully drew near the horse, smiling with an apple in hand. "Come, love. Can I know you?" The horse came and Adalette stroked its face. "You're stronger than me, too. Perhaps we can be friends?"

"Horses don't talk," Adiel muttered, turning to Lydia. "Do you think she knows?"

"I know," Adalette replied. "I also know she's unfamiliar with kindness. But I'll show you. I'll call you Eira." She led the beautiful creature out of the trees and into the sunlight washing over the path. The pain in her feet was searing, but earning Eira's trust felt more important than giving in to throbbing injuries. She would brave the unfamiliar and resist. When they arrived in Riverwood, she could not deny the relief.

That night, Lydia began what she figured would become a regular routine. She paid for a room and helped her Thane settle into hers. The discomfort was obvious, but she did not want to embarrass Adalette by bringing it up. The housecarl opted to lessen the physical exertion instead. With as much tact as she could offer, she let Adalette rest and closed the door behind her. "Well, so goes our first day," Lydia said to no one in particular. Adiel was relaxing in his seat, eyeing a woman across the way. "I'm surprised someone like you had any interest in joining the Dragonborn."

"Opportunities are there to take, not admire," he smirked. He inched over on the bench, letting her sit next to him while she chewed on fresh bread. Lydia nodded, though was wary of his insinuation. Overall, Adiel appeared to be laidback and agreeable, not that appearances were to be believed. "What about you? Why are you traveling with… What's her name again?"

The question rubbed Lydia the wrong way, "Adalette. She is Dragonborn and now Thane of Whiterun; I suggest you remember it."

"What an odd name." He took a swig of his mead, giving a furtive wink to the woman across from him. "The way she fumbles about, has she been in Skyrim long?"

"I imagine not. She was caught in some nasty business in Helgen the day she arrived. "

"What luck," he chuckled. "So she hasn't known her destiny long, then?"

It was an apt question and she had not given it much thought. She rested her back against the table, watching the bard play on his lute as she considered what the poor girl must have felt. "The dragons have only just reemerged. She told me she discovered it the other day." And she was taking it hard, as was natural. She shifted, remembering the slow crack of her calm visage. "Now she has been summoned by the Greybeards."

"Ha, that's quite a few days." He turned to her with a sly grin, "Do you suppose she'd be interested in a man such as I?"

"You must be joking," Lydia snarled lowly. "Is that why you joined us?" He bit his bottom lip and looked back to his future conquest.

"No, what I said was true, if not a bit too honest. The look you're giving me; I'm no skeever of a man. I like challenges and dedication as much as the next person. Looking at her now, I have to admit she's appealing. I've always imagined finding a wife as alluring. Of course, I would have to conquer her first."

"I see what you mean about your honesty," Lydia rolled her eyes. "Before I leave you to your opportunistic ogling, why don't you go out and purchase a heavy fur cloak for her?" She pulled out her map, "She's a newcomer, remember? I've noticed she is still unaccustomed to the climate. And the path we are taking tomorrow is known for its freezing and hazardous conditions."

He looked displeased and put-upon, "Why don't you go?"

"Because I am her sword and shield," she said with less amiability. "I must stay at her side and protect her. You can make yourself useful if you really seek her favor." He shrugged with a wolfish grin, standing. At minimum, he was not combative. It was hardly a raving evaluation, though preferable to a full-on misogynist. "While you're out," she added, another thought occurring to her, "you should also purchase some camping equipment. I can purchase food for the road here."

He looked taken aback, "Are we planning on being on this journey long?"

"Ideally, we will sleep in an inn, but you can never plan for unforeseen circumstances." She pulled out her coin purse, "Make sure her bed roll is extra insulated." He saluted her sarcastically, heading to the blacksmith first. Lydia snorted under her breath and headed in to Adalette's room.

She was sleeping, but awoke the instant Lydia opened the door. Lydia apologized and she shook her head, "No, don't apologize. It's not your fault. I just haven't slept very well since…" She trailed off, her brows furrowing as Lydia took a seat on the chair next to her. The Dragonborn shrugged her shoulders, "Is it wrong of me to scorn the Gods for giving me this destiny?"

"I imagine it is a lot to take in," Lydia offered. "Remember; take it one step at a time."

"I asked Adiel what he wanted to gain by being with us," Adalette said suddenly, "but I have no idea what it is _I _want. I _wanted_ a simple, quiet life studying the magic and the small creatures of Tamriel. I wanted stability, perhaps finding someone who could love me along the way." She laughed, burying her face in her hands, "Gods, Lydia. I'm sorry for gushing at you."

"It is best not to let these thoughts fester," she responded. "I would be suspicious of you if you had an easy acceptance of this grand responsibility." Adalette chuckled darkly, fighting back another fit of tears. "You are an Imperial, right?" She nodded and Lydia carefully considered her words, "In our culture, the Nords, it would be considered a great honor to be ordained with this responsibility. We value valor and bravery, and contrary to what many Nords would never admit, overcoming fear is proof of both."

Adalette sighed shakily, satisfied by her housecarl's comforting words. "I suppose I must force myself to rise above this fear, as you say."

"I'm back," rang Adiel's voice. He opened the door with an untactful swing and hoisted a pack filled with what looked to be camping supplies. It became apparent that he either lacked perception to notice the private moment or simply had no care for it. He produced a heavy fur cloak and set it over Adalette with a wink. "How'd I do, Adrianne?"

"_Adalette_," Lydia corrected as he waved his hand.

Adalette sifted through the supplies and looked impressed, "You didn't steal these, did you?"

"Of course not! Ask Alvor if you have any doubts." He placed his hands on his hips, raising his chin, "Besides, these are beneath me to steal. Anyway, if I'm done, I'd like to sleep too."

She sifted through, mentally cataloguing their materials, "Before you go, I have to tell you both something." Her voice was shaking and she shrunk into herself. It was not going to be an easy talk, "I suppose this might sound ludicrous to seasoned Nord warriors, but I come from a very different background. To get to the point, I cannot be an accessory to murder." As expected both of her companions looked perplexed. "I am destined to kill dragons, but I find I have no taste for taking lives. Since you will both be accompanying me, I have to ask you to please refrain from killing."

"Ha, you're going to have a tough time, then," Adiel smirked. "Not only are there bandits and dragons, but there are beasts, vampires, and necromancers. If you're looking for an easy, peaceful life, I've a bit of bad news for you."

He was mocking her, but Adalette persisted, encouraged by Lydia's attention and lack of incredulity. "If we can avoid killing animals, we should. I will not blame either of you if you choose to kill one in self-defense; I had to when I escaped Helgen. I have no experience with necromancers, but I imagine they are easy to paralyze without a ward. As far as the undead go, I find no contradiction in my request."

He paused, "So they are fair game?" She nodded and he smirked, "I will be interested to see if you can maintain such a radical position. Life in Skyrim is hard and cheap."

She had the sense that he was prodding more than mocking, reexamining her earlier impression of him. She gathered her thoughts, adjusting the cloak over her shoulders. "I believe life is never disposable," she argued. "But I do not blame you for your skepticism. I won't bore you with my philosophical thinking, but know that I have logic from Cyrodiil I am happy to share with you at any time. Aside from that, I know Lydia will honor my feelings, but will you?"

Adiel turned from her, arms crossed and biting his lower lip, "I can play your game, Dragonborn. Don't you worry."


	2. Paths

**Chapter Two: Paths**

_Loredas, 5:57 AM, 22__nd__ of Last Seed, 4E 201_

Adalette awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache. She hardly slept at all, though was thankful for the thick cloak Adiel had purchased the previous night. She dragged her fingers over the soft white fur, inhaling the frigid air. It was drying out her eyes, nose, and throat. At minimum, her body was not as sore as the previous day. Her companions joined her in her room and prepared the supplies for the journey. She hissed in pain when she set her feet to the floor, alarming her company. She smiled awkwardly as Lydia tended to her in a rush.

She longed for the refined beauty of Cyrodiil, despite being welcoming of the change in scenery. At least things were not confusing at home. That "Book of the Dragonborn" held no real answers other than she could potentially rule the Empire one day. Or something. She sifted through her belongings and the new, black robes Lydia had bought for her. Her heart raced, remembering the hidden jewelry she had sewn in her underclothing and quickly put them on. They were her sole reminders of home, all silver embedded with polished moonstones.

Adiel applied white war paint, consisting of a line that split in two below his left eye. Adalette _thought_ she had seen a ghost of it the previous day. He tapped his boot on the floor, hands folded to his mouth as he waited for the ladies to ready themselves. While he had been complacent thus far, he looked annoyed when their trip delayed, even if it was short. When the Dragonborn finally slipped on her boots, he lifted her from the bed, ignoring her protests. "Lydia, right?" he asked as she nodded, eyes wide. "Why don't you prepare the horse? I can take care of our Lady until then." He looked down to Adalette, "By the way, don't you have _any_ armor? These thin mage clothes will do nothing for you."

"They're _robes_ and I have protective spells," she shot back as he rolled his eyes. "I insist that you put me down!" Adalette cried, gripping at his armor in fear of dropping to the ground. He was amused at as she hid her face from curious onlookers. She had always been anxious and the spectacle felt like torture to her.

"You magic-types and your naivety. It is no replacement for the real thing. But I guess in your current situation, it might be for the best." He carried her outside as Adalette continued to insist on walking. Lydia quickly readied Eira's new saddle as Adiel hoisted her over. It was unclear to Adalette whether he meant to squeeze her buttocks, but she shot him a glare. He smirked, "Are we ready, Mighty Dragonborn?"

"Keep laughing; I will surpass you sooner or later." He smirked again and Adalette fumed, "And _next time_, I insist on walking myself."

Her attempts to scare him had failed as he shrugged. He readied his bow and arrows, strapping them around him. "Listen, princess; when you can move fast enough, I'll consider it." His voice did not sound like itself for a moment and she blinked. "If I were you, I would be thankful that you don't _have_ to walk." He continued to prepare, loading Eira with their camping equipment and food. Adalette huffed, securing her boots to the stirrups with care.

"You did injure your feet," Lydia added. "Under normal circumstances, I would oppose Adiel, but these are not."

"Fine, I see your points," Adalette conceded. She was not content to leave it at that, adding, "Adiel, while I am sympathetic to your gesture, I would appreciate it if you didn't outright disrespect me next time. Whether you think I was moving fast enough is irrelevant. If I insist on walking, _let me_. It is not your place to decide for me. Do you agree with me?" He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but despite the social posturing, nodded. "Just down this way, right Lydia?"

She nodded, securing the straps and reigns. "I will be sure to help Adiel respect your wishes next time, my Thane. I can lead the horse if you want to read," Lydia offered, making Adalette perk. Adiel chose to snort.

"You're _reading_? Are you serious?"

"Yes, you troglodyte," Adalette had an edge to her answer. She grabbed her pack and perused the limited titles. "I am a foreigner, remember? I want to familiarize myself with your customs and prepare for what's to come. Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I'm sure that bard from last night could have given you a proper introduction. Or I could have." Lydia shot a glare back at him and he shrugged, "I meant no disrespect of course."

"Of course," the mage mocked, wrapping her cloak before her. Adiel was surprisingly childish, reminding her of boys who would tease her when she was small. On another note, she noticed that his voice, while even-toned, held a slight accent unusual for a Nord. She dug through her pack, her heart leaping when she found what looked to be her saving grace; a spell for closing wounds. Thank the gods Lydia was so practical. She pulled out the spell tome, taking it before her as it floated, glowed and burst into flames. Adiel was confused.

"Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yes. The knowledge is bound in the physical form, but mages change it and channel it into themselves. This should help me not be so helpless." Carefully, Adalette concentrated and her hands began to glow golden. Adiel watched with thinly veiled interest as the skin began to close itself. She balanced herself on the saddle and healed her feet through the boots. It took a lot of concentration at first. Until she was familiar with the manipulation of energies, the healing spell would be difficult to use on the spot. She opted to practice as they headed up the terrain. The dull aching in her hands and feet subsided. She smiled; the spell was much easier than lightning.

"Magic," Adiel scoffed, returning his attention to the road. "Also, not to question your status as an omniscient being," he said, purposefully making her bristle, "but I would also be wary of using jewelry. Might give bandits an idea."

"Why don't you let _me_ worry about that?" He backed down with a roll of his eyes. She would not show it, but he did manage a rise out of her. She controlled her breathing, refusing him the satisfaction. The jewelry was a necessity, and more importantly had enchantments she needed to amplify her power. She felt a change in her, probably due to her prayer to the Warrior Stone. She eyed the path as they passed it, seeing the overgrown brush that marked where the stones stood. Adalette tied her hair up to honor the change.

The rushing water was loud and made the area uncomfortable. At least it was not as windy as Whiterun. She ducked her head against the cold, a perfect opportunity to hide the rogue tears. Gods, that habit never left her. While her situation was overwhelming, it was not something so strong that it would overpower her dignity, much less in front of Adiel. She brought her hands to her chest, focusing on stifling the water gathering in her eyes. The mage felt something placed over her shoulders and glanced up. He walked beside her with an inconspicuous saunter. Had he really just done that? She sniffed and secured the cloak.

What had her so upset?

There was a sounding roar in the distance, trembling the earth and splitting the sky. Adalette's eyes shot up as her companions did the same. Eira snorted, stopping her walk and backing up as the cry washed over the area. It rippled through the trees and sent a shock through them. In the distance, a dragon soared the skies with its great wings. Thinking quickly, the Dragonborn jumped off of the saddle, faltering in a bad land and into Adiel, who luckily had better balance. She used him to get on her feet.

He gawked and swallowed hard as the dreadful outline of the beast showed through the clouds. "Honestly, I did not realize we would be fighting dragons," he admitted, clearing his throat and readying his bow. "I guess that was stupid, huh?" He looked to the two women, both of whom were curiously unfazed.

Lydia readied her sword and shield and Adalette ordered Eira to stay, leaving a sack of apples for her to munch on. The pair moved fast, an eminent and logical sweep far from Eira. Finding no notable pain in her soles, the Imperial raced to a considerable distance and shouted, "_FUS!_" It got the dragon's attention. It sliced through the mist, shifting its weight and descending the sky toward her.

"Are you kidding me? Did you _have_ to call it over?" Adiel griped as he caught up to them.

"What do you expect?" she shot back. "This is no time for your excuses. If you want to be useful, tell me what it breathes."

"_Air_, I imagine."

Adalette rolled her eyes as the dragon, faster than any of them anticipated, swooped at them. She conjured a ward as the flames created a blazing sphere around them with speed she had no idea she possessed. "_Fire_," she said simply as its blaze faded. They separated immediately, Adiel finding his range, Adalette distancing herself, and Lydia circling and striking it. Adalette readied a frost spell, shooting spikes of ice at it.

Adiel inhaled, fighting the fear of seeing a creature so large before him. He was someone who knew no fear, and yet his knees trembled at the impossible monster. It was large, its prodigious arms blended into its wings, and it bore a face like Oblivion. Adalette, to his surprise, seemed unaffected as she charged at the dragon with everything she had. He shook the trembling out of his hands, being too proud to run like his instincts told him. He drew back his bow, took aim, and shot. The arrow plunged into its eye, causing a violent lurch.

"Brace yourself!" Lydia ordered as the gust from its mighty movements blasted through the trees. It breathed fire into the air, roaring a resounding snarl, whipping violently. Adiel, recognizing the behaviors he had seen in other animals, raced toward it. Just in time, he swooped the Dragonborn from the ground as its tail swept the area. He let go of her immediately as the two women continued their assault.

Her heart beat rapidly as Adalette continued drawing her magic. It had its limitations and she had to dodge and concentrate. Lydia continued to block and charge, but her shield had begun to crack under the dragon's strength. It was _not_ her dream. She wished she was elsewhere, having no idea what possessed her to believe she could take on this massive creature. It gnashed its sharp teeth and lunged it claws, and each movement made her lose her balance. The very earth trembled. She did not stand a chance.

Seeing Lydia brought her to her senses. It was no time to be distracted. The Nord woman was in danger and Adalette had no choice but to end this battle soon. She concentrated, sweeping her hands in a half-circle before her for the natural energies. Lightning began to ripple over her arms and concentrate in her fingertips. With hammy projection, she shot her arms out to the dragon just as another arrow hit its eye. After such sharp electrocution, the dragon finally gave its last breath and toppled to the earth.

Adiel's pant was still tremulous, his knees threatening to buckle. He fought a fucking _dragon_. He watched as its corpse glowed and burned to a skeleton, and its energy sought Adalette. She glowed as it seeped into her and he smiled, taking the title a little more seriously. _That_ was what it meant to be Dragonborn. "I admit, I had my doubts about you ladies," he called out, "especially you, Dragonborn. For someone so tiny, you have some guts calling a _dragon_ over to fight."

Adalette recognized that it was peculiar of her to be so daring. Fear resurfaced, making her body shake. Yes, _that_ was her. But somehow, no worry for her being or fear engulfed her in battle. She noticed that when battling Mirmulnir. And the instinctive battle technique might have simply been common sense, but it had no logical foundation. Lydia circled the mass of bones and placed a hand on her Thane's shoulder. "Well, according to our legends, you have the soul of a dragon and the body of a mortal." Lydia smiled to her, "Nice ward, by the way."

"Are you hurt?" Adalette turned to Lydia, noticing her favor her side. She concentrated her healing spell in her right hand, setting it gently against her rib. Her housecarl's shield arm had been hurt during the battle as well, looking tender at the sight. To think she used to scoff Restoration as a School of Magic. Now she would depend on it.

They continued their journey, passing Helgen. It was a dark reminder to the Dragonborn, but they did not linger. Her eyes remained glued to the shambles of buildings, drinking in the jagged skyline of the trees until it disappeared into the distance. Adiel noticed and asked if she was fine in uncharacteristic concern. She tightened her lips and nodded, facing the approaching pass. The path became steep and the air thinner and colder. Adalette braced herself, wrapping her cloak around her, as they trudged onward.

The walk was no particular challenge until they began to reach the peak. Snow began to fall in droves, blinding them. It was hard to see and impossible to continue as the freezing winds snaked through the gaping pass. Quickly, they set up the shelter and a huddled inside. Adalette was concerned for her horse and tried to coax Eira inside. Skyrim's horses were accustomed to the cold, but not freezing temperatures. "You're joking," Adiel objected. "Leave the smelly creature outside."

"But you'll freeze to death," Adalette shot back as Lydia chuckled into her hand. Adiel frowned, huffing as the horse nervously made its way in the tent. "Eira, can you lay down?" The horse did not respond, earning a scoff from Adiel. "Like this," she demonstrated. The horse watched her intently and Adalette encouraged her by patting her legs. Slowly, the horse found her way down. The mage smiled, scratching the back of the horse's ear.

Adiel tied the opening and pinned it as best he could. They needed more pins and perhaps a permanent leather tarp to keep the ground dry. Given their low funds, he would need to find something menial to do. Or steal. He secured linen over the openings to decrease the incoming wind and exposure as Lydia lit a small lantern. He and Lydia were fine, but Adalette was shivering even with the cloak donned. "I could keep you warm," Adiel offered coyly as Adalette grimaced.

"A world of no." She neared Eira, brushing her mane and speaking to her.

The snow storm continued for another hour as well as the wind. It seeped into their tent, though was unquestionably better than not having it at all. Adiel studied the Dragonborn as she leaned on her horse, reading with a small ball of glowing light above her. He pursed his lips for a moment as he considered his instinct. Something about that girl was not quite right. "So, I hardly know you ladies," he started, shaking the women out of their comfort. "I'm Vidar Adiel, 26 years of age."

"If your name is Vidar, why have us call you Adiel?" Adalette asked, making him smirk. She furrowed her brow; he was satisfied with the strangest things.

He noted her high cheekbones and nose, which was slightly on the bigger side. Her hair was silky, indicating that she came from a well-off family. Yet she found herself in a place that devalued magic and was at constant suspicions with those that used it. As smart as she was, it could not have been ideal. There was no reason not to dig. "I have my reasons, but I don't mind if you call me Vidar. Come now, Dragonborn. Tell me about yourself. "

"I'm Adalette Caelius, 20 years of age. I'm Dragonborn and Thane of Whiterun. All in two day's work," she added with sarcasm, turning to Lydia.

"I am Lydia, 27 years of age, and housecarl to the Dragonborn." Lydia smiled to Adalette as her beam was reflected.

"Fascinating," Vidar muttered, fist to his face. He concentrated as Adalette let her hair loose and readjusted her cloak, finding the outline of her breasts. To his pleased surprise, they seemed ample. "So, you're a mage. What's a mage doing in a land so suspicious of magic?"

"Mage in training," she clarified while closing her book. "I was heading to the College of Winterhold to continue my studies... Before everything happened. I'm from a small property just outside of Bravil, if you've ever heard of it." She bit her lip, her anxiety increasing by their plain interest in her story. There was really not much _to_ tell. "I had the standard education given to every citizen of Cyrodiil, but higher education is where the influence lies. The small mage chapter specializes in the School of Illusion, of which I am not terribly fond."

"But you have some training in weaponry?" Lydia asked. "I'm great with lighter swords, if you have need of training."

Adalette nodded, "I have some experience, though I fear it may not translate well in battle. The system of education in Cyrodiil allows for more extensive training, but only if you have connections. So if you don't mind, training would be ideal."

"You also have no sense of stealth," he chuckled. "You may want to work on that, too. Being undetected can be essential for more than stealing. In addition to our new dragon infestation, we have vampire attacks."

Adalette analyzed the man, deciding that he was trustworthy in only the most necessary sense. His skin was a similar tone to hers, a warm olive shade just out of summer, which was odd for a Nord. Something about him added to a suspicion she could not ignore, but also could not identify. Lydia, in the meanwhile, taught her about holding her swords. It felt heavy in her hands, especially considering her magical aptitude. It felt clumsy, but she persisted. She had been holding it in a way that stressed her thumb and contributed to her injuries. She was too embarrassed to tell her the truth.

The snowstorm finally subsided and they made their way through the pass. Adalette shivered the whole way, but Eira kept her warm otherwise. The area breathed and opened to a sprawling land of autumn. The aspen trees were lovely and turning beautiful hues. There was a little cottage on the side of the path. Adalette collected ingredients and worked on potions while they took a break. Her skill in alchemy was embarrassing, especially for a mage.

"This area is known for its bears," Vidar pointed out, counting his remaining arrows. "Let's not get carried away with the gathering." Adalette rolled her eyes. He might have been acting macho, but at least he looked like he was taking it seriously. He was on alert the whole way, tensing at every distant howl. In their luck, they had not encountered any predator.

Ivarstead's little buildings came into view and, relieved from the journey, they headed into the village limits. The temperature felt much colder and the air was thinner than in Whiterun. She looked up to the summit of the 7,000 steps, finding no indication of the monastery. The sheer size of the mountain was daunting. As they looked for an inn to brace themselves for the remaining voyage, Adalette heard muttering in the distance past the sounds of people and falling water. The distress called to her and all other sounds were drowned out by the obvious plea.

Lydia, who had paid for a farm owner for Eira's shelter, noticed her Thane turn a corner and followed with Vidar close behind. Adalette met Narfi, a man in rags who was distressed by the disappearance of his sister, Reyda. His sorrow reached her heart and she fought tears as a thought of home crowded her mind. Would her baby brother miss her like that? "Don't worry, Narfi," Adalette soothed, placing a gentle hand on his gaunt shoulder, "I will look for her." She turned to a bored-looking Vidar and a curious Lydia.

"The inn is right over here," Vidar said, indicating the building with a tilt of his head. Adalette nodded and reiterated her promise to the thin man. They crossed the bridge, eager to settle in for the rest of the day. Her eyes remained on him until she turned the corner, his home in shambles. Lydia pursed her lips, unsure of what to think of the exchange.

Inside the Vilemyr Inn, they were greeted warmly. The group relaxed in the warmth of the embers as Lydia reserved the bedrooms. Adalette unloaded, rubbing her sore shoulders. A bard offered to play her a song, being bashful about her ability to sing. In open kindness, Adalette said, "I heard you playing when we arrived; you have talent." She pulled out her coin purse and paid her, "Why don't you play something for me?" The housecarl's dropped her arms to her sides in doubt. Her Thane was too soft.

It was still too early for them to rest for the night. Adalette was restless as Vidar relaxed next to her, sharpening a unique blade. Her thoughts refocused to Narfi and the mysterious sadness engulfed her again. "Vidar," she murmured. He perked, his blue eyes piercing. She hesitated, already shrinking at the thought of his disapproval, "About Narfi-"

"There are lots of people who have gone insane," he dismissed. "I wouldn't waste my time if I were you."

Adalette looked less than pleased. "How can you be so cavalier? He must be so lonely." She should not have assumed Vidar would have an ounce of compassion. Her chest heaved, ripping through the expectations and coldness that would normally defeat her. She stood and marched to the publican, "E-excuse me, I have a question for you."

Lydia watched Adalette's rather intense conversation as she joined Vidar, "What is happening?"

"Lady Dragonborn is playing hero. She wants to help that mad, vagrant fellow." Adalette pivoted to him and he straightened as she marched outside. The pair shared a look before following after her. The Imperial observed the surrounding area and thought, bracing against the chill in the wind. Vidar and Lydia joined her outside. "Dragonborn," Vidar began, not hiding his distaste, "this is pointless. She probably ran away. The Gods know I would have."

The cold was stronger there. Somehow, Vidar's callousness made her more determined. Those were words and discouragements with which she was long familiar. She focused and opened her eyes. They were glowing a vibrant blue. "Not everyone is as coldhearted as you." Adalette shot a light out over the river. She began taking off her clothes, leaving on nothing but the thin garb she wore underneath. Vidar cocked his head with interest as Lydia slapped him upside his head. Bracing herself, Adalette waded into the river and dived into the freezing water.

Her body immediately burned in protest of the frigid water. But it was too late; she spotted Reyda's remains. She emerged and called out to Lydia, "She's right here!" She stopped her magic and dove in again, but the body had been sitting too long and had become entwined with the muck. Lydia strode and joined her, alarmed by the freezing temperature.

Lydia reached her Thane and she reemerged, "We should get out of this water," she suggested as Adalette's heart filled with dread.

"She should have a proper Nord burial," she said between clattering teeth. Lydia, through the freezing cold, could not help but be pleased. Adalette fought to focus her magic and created a levy of ice to block the flow of the river. The air was warmer than the water. With care, guards joined to retrieve Reyda's body. Adalette took her necklace. Still cold and shivering, she returned that and the news to Narfi.

"She may be gone, but you can visit her. The guards say she will be in the Hall of the Dead in Riften." He seemed pleased and rewarded her kindness with random items, which Adalette took with sincerity. She grew to a state of numbness and the experience became surreal. She walked across the bridge to her companions with her head hung. In a moment, she was back in Cyrodiil, leaving forever in clear resolve. That was the happiest and saddest moment in her young life.

"That was _stupid_ of you," Vidar growled, bringing her back. "You could have died. Both of you. You could _still_ die."

"It wasn't _stupid_," Adalette argued, wrapping her cloak around Lydia. "I would do the same for anyone. We honor our dead in Cyrodiil."

"Honor or not, there is no reason to be so reckless for people who could care less about your safety."

Adalette summoned fire in her hands, curling into herself, "You're in denial; he _was_ thankful."

Vidar scoffed, looking to Lydia, "You can't possibly support this." Lydia shrugged, having nothing to add to the conversation. He was going to retort when a stranger slid a cloak over Adalette's trembling body. His mouth hung open, amusing the Dragonborn before she glanced at the gracious stranger.

"Hello," he chirped. Adalette smiled, quirking a brow as she drank in his face. He was a strange looking fellow, looking like a Bosmer at first glance. His ears were certainly elven, as was the golden war paint. Yet his silky dark skin and build spoke of a Redguard heritage. If there was anything certain about him, he had a kind face, "That was a generous thing you did. I couldn't help him when I arrived yesterday." She continued shivering, making him gasp, "Oh, I'm sorry. Let's head inside. Do you mind if we chat? I'm Rayner Aziz."

Rayner was, to put it lightly, charming. He was a unique-looking man with a voice befitting of his optimistic demeanor. He spoke to her like there was nothing more important in the world. He had excitement and clarity in everything he said. "I came here after serving in the Dawnguard. I don't do well in established guilds like that, but told them that I would happily find recruits that might fare better. I've been wandering for the past few months, but then I heard the call of the Greybeards. You wouldn't happen to be the one?"

"Yeah, that's me. The Mighty Dragonborn," she said. She found it hard to be glum with Rayner and his sunny expression. The fact was that while she had liked people in the past, she had never met someone whose sole presence made her feel safe. He leaned toward her, hands on his knees and a perpetual smile on his face. Even his eyes were happy. Adalette cocked her head in intrigue, fuzzy feelings blooming in her stomach. "You have such an interesting face."

"Do I?" he answered with a little too much eagerness. He noticed his gush and offered her a bashful smile, scratching the back of his head. "My father was a Wood Elf, and my mother a Redguard. It was an interesting upbringing, to say the least."

"I can't imagine," she answered with wistfulness in her tone. She cleared her throat, realizing she was staring at him longer than decorum allowed. The "bloom" was unfamiliar, but she wanted to speak with Rayner more. He was enticing and interesting, and if what he said earlier was true, compassionate. If she was reading him correctly, it seemed that the feeling was mutual.

Vidar added, "I'm mixed, too; Nord and Breton." _Oh_. She had forgotten about her companions for the last few minutes. How rude of her.

She turned her attention to him, "Really? I honestly would not have guessed." She looked at him and nodded, finding the features that indicated his slight elven ancestry.

Vidar was about to speak, but Rayner spoke before him, "So, Dragonborn. To be honest, I thought you would be taller." He chuckled as Adalette tried not to look so charmed. "I'm pleasantly surprised, though I guess it should be to be expected that the gods chose such a striking woman for the gift." Adalette's eyes widened and she fought the sudden blush on her face. He studied her for a moment, his crooked grin flustering her, "If you'll have me, I would be honored to join you in your endeavors."

"Oh, I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering," he smiled. "Perhaps I can offer you training? I feel there is a lot I can learn from you."

Vidar snorted, turning his attention away. Lydia, who had been reading next to him, smiled, "You can just talk to her, you know." Her suggestion made him tense. Like a true, thick-headed Nord male, he puffed his chest and sulked.

"I have no care for her attentions," he responded with too obvious bitterness. He huffed at Lydia's knowing expression. "She's too brainy, from what I can tell. Not my type at all. I like blonde Nord women."

"With all due respect, I do not envy you." She looked to her Thane, laughing and living in the present for the first time since they met. "Earlier, you asked me if I approved of her heroics. The truth is, I think it's naïve. People tend to be rather awful." She inhaled as Vidar slumped in the bench, posturing but listening. "I don't know. I suppose the fact that she wants to help so genuinely makes me want to support her. So whether I approve or not, I guess I want to feel hopeful too." He grunted. In the meantime, Rayner and Adalette became better acquainted.


	3. The Throat of the World

**Chapter Three: The Throat of the World**

_Sundas, 6:01 AM, 23__rd__ of Last Seed, 4E 201_

As much as Adalette hated to admit it, Vidar _might_ have been correct about diving head-first into freezing waters. Her body was in the weird nexus between health and illness and her muscles were more than sore. On the other hand, Rayner was much better company. His face was like sunshine and he was almost as caring as Lydia. "Are you falling ill? I happen to be an excellent student of alchemy and the School of Restoration. At least when it comes to disease."

He sifted through her collected ingredients and set off to create a potion. Rayner was more than eager to prove himself, and it was working. He was swift in the creation, deft with his hands. After ingesting it, Adalette felt much better. Lydia analyzed him as Vidar remained suspiciously silent. "So, you're good with alchemy and magic; are you skilled in anything else?"

"I'm excellent at brawling," he offered, amber eyes widening. The women paused at his seriousness before he continued with a beam, "That was kind of a joke. I'm an expert marksman; you'll never go hungry. I'm also great with two-handed weapons, dual-wielding, and am a decent blacksmith. Speaking of which, I took the liberty of repairing your shield." He pointed to the shield, set against the chest in the room, and grinned, "I'm an insomniac, too. Anyway, I feel like we'll get along great."

Lydia raised a brow, pleased at his initiative. She gave Adalette a pleased smile and furtive wink as the younger woman blushed hard. Vidar scoffed and shifted the pack on his shoulders. Rayner explained his fondness for elven blacksmithing, recommending the switch to Lydia if she ever cared for it. Adalette envied the peace with which he carried himself. Her heart fluttered whenever his smile was directed at her. She wrung her hands as Vidar interrupted the exchange, pointing out that they should hurry to their objective. He was right.

They had a lot to finish before heading up the 7,000 steps. Adalette hoisted a basket full of laundry and looked up to the endless height of the mountain. Was there even a summit? Thick clouds of moisture clung to the top and her mind came together. The events of the past few days had begun to sink in and she felt planted to the ground. She headed behind the inn to the river to wash the clothes. She bent over the water, hands to her knees, and focused on her reflection.

Her eyes were sullen, emphasized by the dark circles that formed beneath them. The hair she valued had been cut away, a symbol of the womanhood she held with pride. What a nightmare. Was she always so gloomy? She thought back, but the truth was that she had never been happy. She focused on her chore, blending into the natural sounds around her. The birds squawked above her, already heading south.

"My Thane?" Adalette tensed at the voice, her hands clamping around her wet linen. She looked back as Lydia climbed down to the river, pushing aside pine branches to join her. "Would you like help?"

Adalette shook her head, "No, thank you; I'm done. I hadn't realized how much blood and dirt collects on clothes out here." It was an offhanded comment. In a way, she hoped Lydia would respond with some cheerful banter. Instead she joined her with a gentle smile, her armor clinking.

"Rayner is out hunting _bears_, if you can believe that. Someone is offering a lot of gold for their pelts." She sat on the bank, "Vidar is going to harvest some wheat after helping Rayner. I just bought food. We should be ready to head out in a few hours."

"Is there an enchanting table here?" Adalette perked. "I have some soul gems, if you want something enchanted." Lydia shook her head. The silence diffused between them. It was hard to tell whether Lydia was trying to say something, but it made the mage feel a little stupid. The Dragonborn sighed, "I'm sorry. I should find something that needs to be done." The housecarl smiled; was she trying to keep her busy?

"If you're looking to build strength, chopping wood will help."

"Thanks, Lydia." Adalette set the clothes out to dry in the sun. One thing she appreciated about her housecarl was her practicality and the way she remained pleasant despite her strength. Other female warriors she had encountered discarded their humanity in the name of equality with their male counterparts. As if men did not have emotions, and as if feeling anything hindered them in some way. As a mage, she found the concept ridiculous. She headed to the chopping block, eyes down to the ground.

Ivarstead was a small settlement at the mouth of the mountain. Adalette had neglected to notice its size the previous day and was tickled by its smallness. Vidar was right across from her at the farm, just about done with whatever menial chore, if she had to guess. He was flirting with the daughter, who looked younger than Adalette. She focused on her chore, too disgusted to think more of it. She gripped the axe's neck and haft and wiggled her hands down, trying to find a good grip. Her life had sure taken a strange turn.

_Soul of a dragon, body of a human_. Was that why her fights with the two dragons felt like victories rather than traumas? Her mother was right; she _was_ a monster. Adalette did not recognize herself anymore. It was hard to tell what was changing, but her body no longer felt like her own.

"There you are!" came Rayner's voice from behind her. She had chopped a whole pile of wood before she knew it. She turned back to him, crooked grin all alight. He handed her fur boots, gloves and a pack. "You'll need these. Wouldn't want you losing any limbs on the climb. I also made those pins Vidar wanted for your tent, _and_ a tarp for your shelter and horse. Oh, lovely! The firewood will be useful. "

"You're very productive," she giggled, bowing her head. He was an example to her. He was excitable and willing to help. More than that, Rayner made it easy for her to feel normal about being abnormal. He did not look at her like she was any different. As kind as Lydia was, the housecarl made her aware of her "status." Vidar was just a jerk. She divided the firewood between them and tied them with twine to attach to each of their packs. Her muscles were sore, but Lydia was right about her physical strength. The axe felt lighter already.

As they crossed the bridge, Adalette overheard someone bemoaning the climb. She offered the man, Klimmek, help in delivering the supplies. Vidar looked annoyed about the generosity. She would make a point of being helpful in the future just to grate on him. Well, not _just _to annoy him, but it was certainly a valuable incentive. The climb was difficult due to the incline, but Adalette found the emblems interesting. She braced herself as the freezing winds snaked down the steps.

_Before the birth of Men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus;_

_Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs;_

_For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land._

_Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus;_

_The Dragons presided over the crawling masses;_

_Men were weak then, and had no Voice_

_The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times;_

_Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices;_

_But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts_

So dragons were ruthless against humans. She bowed her head to the tablet, conflicted between the weakness in her humanity and the dominating force of her dragon spirit. Was it only activated with the return of the dragons? She tensed and her brow furrowed. She could not recall being like that before. In her childhood, she was a whiny child and far too sensitive. The milk drinker in her remained strong until she came to Skyrim. It was why she preferred magic to blunt force.

Adalette froze in mid-step, stiff in the snow as something in her blood grew cold. The surrounding trees moaned and her skin prickled at the shift. The others stopped when she did, and Rayner and Lydia asked her what was wrong. Her heart began to race, and soon, the loud roar in the distance revealed why. She raced toward the cry and saw the dragon brutalizing a terrified Nord pilgrim. She and her team raced to their rescue, but it was too late. As Lydia drew its attention, Adalette tried to save their life to no avail.

Everything happened so fast, yet seemed so slow. The dragon's giant claws and weight overcame the small, fragile body of the person contemplating the tablets. For a moment, Adalette wondered in her remaining innocence whether the pilgrim would be okay. Her eyes welled up, terror forcing itself through the veil of violence. Her destiny was dark and many more innocent people would die. The message sunk in and broke her heart.

She raced toward the dragon. Vidar stopped his ranged assault and raced over to his leader as the dragon whipped, injured by Lydia and Rayner. Its gale forced them off balance, its roar shaking them out of concentration. He interrupted the Dragonborn and lifted her. She fought him, the body of the pilgrim being mangled under the weight of the creature's tail. Adalette's fury grew, inhaling hard as she balled her fists.

She pushed Vidar off of her and raced to the monster with a hot breath in her chest. She shot fireballs and bolts at the dragon, then a harsh mix of the two. The continuous stream of flames made the dragon cry out as its scales scorched under the heat. She stopped, exhausted, and Rayner sliced its neck open with an elven sword. Vidar watched Adalette as she turned and continued her path, the soul seeping into her in the golden glow. Her skin remained prickled and no one approached her until the tenseness in her posture subsided.

_Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man;_

_Together they taught Men to use the Voice;_

_Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue_

_Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world;_

_Proving for all that their Voice too was strong;_

_Although their sacrifices were many-fold_

_With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer;_

_Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice;_

_Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World_

_The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled;_

_Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation;_

_To understand how Strong Voices could fail_

The tablets referred to Tiber Septim. Adalette's eyes were dull and she felt numbness take over. Her body no longer registered anything and she panicked in realizing it had nothing to do with adrenaline. She was changing fast and it was beyond her control. She did not know what the revelation implied for her future. The aggression melted as the cold continued to sweep down the steps. Her footprints were effaced in the wind. She felt like herself again when sorrow shook her.

Lydia took the lead with Vidar, except for when Rayner scared off wolves. He was far more nimble and accustomed to the terrain than even the Nords. Near the summit, he froze as everyone found their way. He turned and exhaled, bringing an erect finger to his lips. Rayner addressed Adalette, "There is a frost troll up ahead. I know we had an impromptu fight with the dragon before, but frost trolls regenerate their strength. They are probably easier, relatively speaking, but can be deadly. What do you suggest?"

Adalette looked surprised, glancing to Vidar and Lydia, "I actually don't really know… If they can regenerate…"

"They are weak against fire, remember?" Lydia added. It was meant to be encouraging, but Adalette was not pleased with the notion. She was aware that trolls were territorial and aggressive, and it might have been a necessary step to advance, but she remembered the smell of scorching flesh from not long ago. The Imperial was sick with herself as it was. Vidar's gaze set on his boots. "Your destruction magic will be vital in the fight."

"She's also not a seasoned warrior," Vidar added, his eyes fixed down. Adalette pressed her hands closer to her chest. Was he trying to help her? He turned to her, "You will need us to distract him. Lydia, you should take the lead." She nodded, looking astonished and worried at Adalette. The men prepared themselves and Lydia took Adalette aside.

"I understand you are having a hard time," Lydia said, placing her hand on her shoulder, "but we cannot afford to be indecisive. That burden falls most on your shoulders. I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that we don't expect you to be perfect," Adalette looked to each of their gazes, "but when things are hard, you must rise to the occasion." The Imperial nodded, but felt stupid and childish that she needed to be talked to that way.

"I will watch your back," Rayner smiled to Lydia.

"Don't be stupid," Vidar muttered to the mage under his breath. Her face fell at that and she prepared the fire in her hands.

The troll was fearsome and large, but fell fast with their individual talents. Rayner and Lydia were the perfect fighting pair. Adalette's stomach churned at burning the creature alive. It cried out and squirmed, fighting desperately to stay alive. Whether it was aggressive made no difference; taking lives proved more distasteful. As she took on more changes, she promised herself to never let her compassion dissipate. She did not want to feel differently.

_Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned;_

_The 17 disputants could not shout Him down;_

_Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World_

_For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name;_

_Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar;_

_They blessed and named him Dovahkiin_

_The Voice is worship; _

_Follow the Inner path;_

_Speak only in True Need_

That Jurgen Windcaller fellow chose silence. Adalette pursed her lips. She was unsure what to think about the rest. She turned to the building that promised the answers she sought.

The Greybeard Monastery was grand and looming, looking more ominous behind the snowfall. Adalette placed the supplies in the chest and breathed. Lydia and Rayner were contemplating the last tablet, finally giving Vidar the chance to speak with her privately. He had wanted to since she fought him before. He struggled with the apology in his throat, aware that he might have disgraced her by trying to remove her from the fight. Vidar finally asked, "Are you alright?"

Adalette peered to him and nodded. "I just need answers."

Vidar struggled, running a hand through his hair. "I apologize for before, with the dragon. I saw how much the death had affected you and figured it would be best to keep you away. Unbridled rage like that tends to make one careless." He paused and watched her. She had not reacted and he continued, "I won't do it again. I did not mean to offend you."

Adalette chewed on his words, turning them over in her mind. "You did what you thought was best, but you take advantage of your size to exert your will over mine. I suggest you defer such judgments to me in the future, but I thank you for your concern." She ended the conversation by heading upstairs. She motioned the others to follow and they pulled the doors back and entered.

They were expected, it seemed. It felt rather eerie coupled with the darkness of the building. All of the men were elderly in long, dark robes and seemed as though they were waiting for her. Their faces told of harsh lives and sacrifice, time marking their miens with wrinkles. It was warm compared to the outside and she inhaled appreciatively. The building groaned with a distant crumble as she approached them. She lowered her head in recognition of their greater wisdom. The Imperial sensed a great power within them.

Arngeir, the most social of the four, spoke for the Greybeards. He bowed to her, his voice gentle and whimsical, and yet held the strength of the tide. "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards."

Adalette's lips quivered in spite of her. She dropped to her knees. "I am Adalette of Cyrodiil, and these are my companions. I am answering your summons as Dragonborn." Was she being too formal or not formal enough? She was unsure of what strain of decorum to follow. They seemed to be regarded as the equivalent of spiritual guides.

"We must first see if you are truly Dragonborn," he said. "Let us taste of your Voice." Adalette hesitated and stood, but complied. Arngeir tumbled back, but managed to maintain his balance. She reached out to him, but he seemed almost tickled, "So you are Dragonborn. It is an honor to welcome you to High Hrothgar." He regained his composure and adjusted his robes. "Tell me; what brings you here?"

She almost scoffed, but recollected her energies to think. "Master Arngeir, where to begin? My life has changed so much in the past few days. I come to discover what it means to be Dragonborn and I hope you, the Greybeards, can help me in that pursuit."

He nodded, "The Greybeards have guided those of the Dragon Blood before you. We are here to guide you in your way."

The Imperial considered what he was saying, heart leaping for a moment. "So I am not the only Dragonborn?" she breathed, feeling less heavy for a moment before he responded.

"No, not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed the gift upon mortalkind." Behind her, Vidar scoffed and crossed his arms, resting against the doorway as Lydia and Rayner kneeled. "It is not our place to know whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age."

She nodded and considered which questions to ask. "Pardon my ignorance, Master Arngeir, but I am a foreigner in these lands. Can you tell me about your history?"

"We are followers of the Way of the Voice. Our monastery sits on the slopes of Kynareth's sacred mountain. We commune with the voice of the sky, and strive to achieve balance between our inner and outer selves." Adalette thanked him and processed what he said. He shifted and seemed more serious, "Now that you have proven your birthright, we will see whether you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you."

They headed to the center of the main room. The other monks positioned themselves as Arngeir continued, "Your Shout, or Thu'um, is the language of the dragons. Your Dragon Blood gives you the ability to learn Words of Power. These are composed of three words, and as you learn them, they become stronger. Master Einarth will teach you the second Word in Unrelenting Force, 'Ro.' It means 'balance.' Combine it with Fus, meaning 'force,' to focus your Thu'um's strength."

Adalette did as she was told. She approached Master Einarth. He whispered, but it felt like a strong gale bursting through her. The word appeared before him, etched into the tile. She stepped over it and it felt as though it fused into her. Master Arngeir seemed pleased, "You are quick to learn, but learning is only the first step. To truly master a Word, you must unlock its meaning through constant practice and meditation. You will normally absorb the knowledge directly from dragons, but Master Eirnarth will allow you to tap into his understanding as part of your initiation."

He whispered again and a psychic fusion occurred. It felt as unsettling as absorbing dragon souls, her stomach tightening. "Show us how quickly you master your new Thu'um." With that, Vidar pivoted on his heel and exited. Lydia followed after him.

"Vidar," she called after him, stopping the door just before it closed. Cognizant of the important ritual inside, she exited with him. "What is the matter?"

Vidar prickled at her question, furrowing his brow, "You, Adalette, and Rayner hold these men in such high-esteem when they have abandoned the world. They choose to ignore reality." He braced himself in the cold, irritated by his shortness of breath at the summit. "You can go back inside. I'll join you guys when the stupidity is done."

Adalette learned her newest shout, and the Greybeards assigned her the task of retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. It scared her to move so quickly, but knew it would be useful. While she was pleased to find that her mastery was fast, she wondered to what end. Arngeir was wrapping up the summons, but Adalette's cowardice made its reappearance. "Does the return of the dragons have something to do with me?"

"Undoubtedly," he said. "Your appearance is not an accident, and your destiny is surely bound with them. Focus on mastering your Voice, and your path will be made clear." She swallowed and anger burned in her stomach. She was insulted that her journey to Skyrim might have been destined, and not the result of her will. She heaved and collected herself.

"Master Arngeir, please. Can't you tell me more?"

"That I can, but that does not mean that the time is opportune. Your easy mastery of the Voice can tempt you into the arrogance of power. This has been the downfall of both men and many Dragonborn before you. Whether these abilities are a gift or curse is a matter of debate. Our role is as your guide, to teach you the Way of the Voice."

"My anxiety is not for mastery of my Thu'um, Master Arngeir," she murmured. "Being Dragonborn comes with power that I know I need tempered with caution. I need to know what it means to _be_ Dragonborn."

"It is an impossible inquiry. Some believe that Dragonborn are sent into the world by the gods, at times of great need. Being Dragonborn gives you inborn abilities that are found within dragons. They are able to project their Voice and absorb the power of their slain brethren." She had not viewed her innate abilities in that way. It brought greater dread to know that her power did not come from harnessing and molding natural energies, but from bringing death to others. Arngeir seemed to notice her disappointment. "Your heart is softer than others before you, Dragonborn. The dragons you are killing are not worthy of your compassion."

Being Dragonborn and using the Voice was surprisingly religious, as he had mentioned in the monastery. Adalette had never been very religious, but to use it to sing praises to the gods? Surely, there was something nobler she could do with the… gift. Especially if it meant tainting what little was left of her with unnecessary violence. Regardless, she bowed and thanked him, returning to her friends.

"Did you find the answers, my Thane?" Lydia asked. Adalette looked between her, Rayner, and an abnormally glum Vidar.

"Unfortunately they're not telling me everything before the final trial. I did get some answers, though." Rayner took Adalette's pack and placed a reaffirming hand on her shoulder. She gripped it and they made their way to Ivarstead. They collected their reward from Klimmek and picked up Eira from the stables. The mountains looked larger under the heavy sun.

They made it past the pass and to Riverwood once more. Adalette huddled on the front stairs of the Sleeping Giant Inn, petulant with the increasing cold. She could not stop thinking about all of the people who had died, and Arngeir's words about the dragons being "unworthy" of her compassion. She frowned; in her mind, if her target could suffer, it _was_ worthy. Skyrim and its people were surprisingly brutal.

"I thought you might want to eat something," said Rayner. He sat next to her and brought her some stew. Adalette smiled up to the taller man and thanked him. She had not realized how hungry she had been. "You are a powerful mage," he began. "It's so surprising. I don't view you as incapable, don't get me wrong. You just seem so calm and kindhearted."

"I used to be," she muttered. "Before I came to Skyrim, I would only attack in self-defense."

Rayner mulled over her words as she ate, nodding. "I'd love to hear about it when you are ready." It was nice to have someone who gave her the option of not sharing. That was probably why she felt more at home with him than her other companions. "I'd love to know more about you, actually. When were you born? I was born on the 28th of Mid Year."

She smiled and quirked a brow, "Trying to see if we're compatible?" She teased him, crossing her legs. Rayner reciprocated with a grin and laugh. "I was born under the sign of the Lord," Adalette smiled. "On the 20th of Sun's Dawn."

"I was born under the sign of the Lover," he grinned. He gestured with an indolent, circular motion with his hand, "I'm not sure if that carries any real weight or meaning, though. I've tried to find my way given everything that's happened. I lost my father to illness, my mother to vampires. I've been a Vigilant of Stendarr, a member of the Dawnguard, and a bard. It's hard to find your way, but I can tell you that motivation by rage leads you nowhere. Same with motivation by hopelessness."

He was almost casual, saying all of that. "Rayner, I'm so sorry."

Rayner shrugged with a large beam, "That's alright. I'm fine now. And in case you think I might leave you too, this is the first time I feel at peace with a decision." He propped his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand, "You don't like violence, right?" She nodded and he grinned. "Good."


End file.
